


A Silent Accord

by Jarakrisafis



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Dwarf Culture & Customs, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:47:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27271420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jarakrisafis/pseuds/Jarakrisafis
Summary: Bhelen Aeducan and Natia Brosca come to an arrangement regarding their love for Rica.
Relationships: Bhelen Aeducan & Female Brosca, Bhelen Aeducan/Rica Brosca
Comments: 6
Kudos: 6
Collections: 2020 A Paragon of Their Kind Dragon Age Dwarf Exchange





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cartadwarfwithaheartofgold (manka)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/manka/gifts).



> So it was mentioned that the recipient wanted more. I aim to please?

"You're either an idiot or just clueless."

Bhelen; Prince, Noble, and scion of House Aeducan, ignores what he suspects is a blade at his back. He is neither of those, he wouldn't have turned up here if he thought he might be in danger. He pushes the spare pint he bought across the stone surface and gestures at the seat opposite. "Good evening Natia."

The knife takes a moment before it is removed, the pressure against the armour he's wearing under his cloak vanishing. The casteless woman circles around the table and carefully sits down and Bhelen takes the time to study her from under the hood of the cloak. He can see his Rica in her, the tilt of her head, the slant of her brows, the same captivating eyes. Except Rica has never looked at him with such outright distrust - if she ever did, he wouldn't have seen it, his love has a perfect mask. She reaches out slowly, taking the tankard he has already drunk from and pushes the fresh one back towards him.

He chuckles, taking it without complaint. He can't fault her paranoia. There's plenty of Noble hunters who've found their kin mysteriously vanished. She watches as he drinks, relaxing just a fraction when he doesn't keel over. She raises a hand before dropping it back to the table, aborting the motion to scrub at the coal dust artfully applied to her cheeks to imply she's a miner - and conveniently cover her brand.

She hums softly, answering her own question, "neither then, so what are you, Bhelen Aeducan?" His name rolls off his tongue, rougher than Rica's soft pronunciation; it sounds dangerous from this younger, rougher version of his Rose.

"Whatever I need to be." He says and watches the faint pull of her mouth towards a smile before she masks her amusement.

"Is that so?"

He smiles, the same one he gives the Assembly when he's been allowed to attend with father, the one that means everything at once and nothing of substance. "Rica mentioned you wished to know who she was seeing."

She blinks several times, the only sign he has that she's startled at the abrupt topic change. "So you went to the trouble of paying a kid to get a message to me. You could have just asked Rica to pass it on."

"I could have. Would you have been as intrigued?"

"I'd have been less likely to think this a set up to murder me," she mutters, taking a sip of her ale, a pleased look crossing her face as she swallows.

"Let's cut to the heart of the matter, yes? Rica says she's found a patron who really likes her," Bhelen says, one hand swirling the ale in his mug and watching the eddies it creates in the foam for a moment, "you want to believe her, after all, she doesn't lie to you, not when it matters. But how can you truly know she's not being deceived? Nobles are all the same, aren't we?"

Natia chuckles, "aren't you clever." A coin appears in one hand, a copper bit, flickering over her knuckles as she thinks. "Why Rica?"

He knows what she's really asking; why her sister when there are so many options out there. She's pretty yes, but Bhelen knows as well as Rica does that she's not the finest that dust town has thrown out. Not that she isn't good looking. But Bhelen appreciates her mind as much as he does her body. And that is exactly what drew his attention; the well veiled sarcasm, the cutting remarks delivered in well meaning sentences, the sheer guts it took to politely tell somebody to get fucked without saying anything they could take as an insult until they were already halfway home and only then realising they'd been insulted.

"We have something in common," he says at last, hand reaching out to snap the coin out of the air when she flips it into the air. He slaps his hand down on the table in front of her before withdrawing. The gold glints in the tavern lights. "we're both more than we appear to be."

She takes the coin, weighing it in one hand before tucking it away. "I think I understand what my sister means when she says she's in love."

Bhelen laughs, a carefree sound, "love, lust, and everything in between. We're going to win this game. Together."

Natia lets a smirk curl one side of her mouth up, "you need a blade, Rica knows where to find me." The blade in question glints in the light, "and we never had this conversation."

He nods once and raises his ale, "what conversation?"

There's no answer. The blade and her half finished tankard of ale have vanished without a sound.


	2. Chapter 2

Bhelen does not enjoy going to watch the Provings. They're a ridiculous concept that have no place in society. How many promising young warriors have been cut down after accidents when they could have put their effort into helping save their city? There's training and then there's wasting lives.

Of course he keeps up with the listings; they are such a good insight into who are having disagreements, but actually watching is not usually his thing. At least these celebratory Proving's are not too bad, they're mostly only fought to yield rather than death.

However he's not here for himself. He's here because Rica quite likes watching them fight, again when they're putting on a show of skill and not stupidly beating each other into the dust.

She's hanging off his arm and staring wide eyed into the arena. Most of that is all show, after all, who's going to question little Bhelen Aeducan showing off to his current whore? When they see the meek, timid woman clinging to him and their eyes spot the brand she doesn't try and hide; they ignore her. She's just a brand. Good for nothing whore that might, if she's lucky, be blessed by the Ancestors to have the privilege of birthing a son for the glory of House Aeducan.

They miss the calculating shine in her eyes as she watches them all. Bhelen can focus on whoever he's speaking to, she sees the rest. They're a team. A seamless mesh of Noble acumen and Duster cunning. Invisibility has its benefits.

"Is everything set up?" She murmurs, the sound lost amongst the cheering of the crowds as a fighter goes down and the next two enter to start their fight.

"All ready." There's so many plans that all need to happen at once.

Trian is walking himself into his own death. Bhelen will not miss him, the only blood they share is a father; they are brothers in name only. Duran, he is a brother, but some sacrifices must be made and Bhelen thinks he will do well with the Legion of the Dead - if all goes well his exile into the deep roads will leave that his only option. Father is hiding it well from his court but Bhelen knows he's ill. A mild poison that will do no harm once he stops being dosed with it. Bhelen only needs him to go along with his suggestions for a while and then Bhelen will need to play the grieving son and cement his place in the minds of the Assembly as the only possible heir.

And for Rica, the Carta bastard that holds the chain to her metaphorical collar needs to die. Her sister doesn't know it yet, but they intend for the Carta to have another head soon enough. 

They just need to get through a few more days until Duran's birthing day celebrations - Father has not made any effort to conceal that he intends to give Duran his own command. It'll be a perfect time to strike. All eyes will be on the Prince, a shakeup in the Carta won't be noticed until too late, especially when the rest of the plans come together.

She hums softly, turning her head away at a rather brutal strike, using the moment to speak again, "we may have a small problem."

"Oh?" He asks, turning his head to look at her.

She glances upwards, fear in her eyes for a brief moment before it's wiped away by the same steely resolve she's always shown. "You know, my sister always wanted to participate in the Provings as a child."

Bhelen raises his eyes back to the fighters as what she's implying sinks in. "Bollocks." He's not going to waste time with useless question like 'how' or 'why' or even 'the fuck do you know that'. He can ask those later, when he's ensured their plans stay on track.

He tugs her through the stands, ignoring the other Nobles who nod at him, barely covered distaste for his choice in partner clearly evident. "I think I can arrange for you to meet some Proving fighters." He says loudly enough to be heard over the roar of the crowds if they're listening - he knows they're all listening. Nothing unusual about that. Half of Bhelen's own intelligence comes from overheard conversations.

"Really My lord? You are too kind." She simpers, hanging off his arm with an adoring expression.

Nothing to see and hear beyond a third son and a timid yet excited noble hunter. Right?

She holds the expression until they're in one of the tunnels and out of sight of anyone. "I." She states, "am going to kill my sister."

Bhelen makes no comment. He knows better than to get between the two of them and right now they need to get to the exit to the Proving grounds so that Bhelen can step in and order the fighter to come with him, his lover wishes to meet them, or some such similar premise. If it is Natia she needs to be gone before well wishers start to crowd her.

"Rica?" A voice calling her name as they step out into the main staging area is so unexpected she turns to look and Bhelen follows the motion. There's another brand beside an irritated guard, the expression on his face Bhelen can only call defeated.

"Leske." He hears her mutter. Not good, if she knows him then there's a high chance she's right about her sister.

The man curls the fingers of the hand the guard can't see then flattens them. It resembles silent speech a little, yet Bhelen would think it just a nervous twitch if not for the way Rica stiffens slightly. Then she sways on his arm, her face turned towards his chest, "stop him," she mutters, before fainting rather dramatically into the path of a fighter wobbling the other way.

Bhelen takes three steps and yanks the stumbling man around before he can recover from nearly tripping over Rica, which gains him a whiff of alcohol and a faint scent he can't quite place. Bhelen drags his dagger from the sheathe at his back before rapping him sharply on the temple with the pommel. The man collapses into a heap without a sound.

The guard rushes over as Rica rises woozily and grasps onto the wall like it's a mine tether. "I'm so sorry My Lord. I don't know what came over me." She says, a tremble in her voice.

"Do you need any assistance My Prince?" The guard is looking between him, the unconscious man and back over his shoulder at the brand Rica called Leske as if he can't decide what he should be doing.

They need less witnesses, not more. Bhelen puts an arm around Rica and steadies her. "Go escort the brand out, I presume he has a pass if he got in?"

"Yes, My Prince." The guard doesn't sound happy about that.

"Well then, he must have been here delivering something. Just show him out now his job is done." It's not uncommon to hire a brand to deliver something entirely anonymously. Also considered quite rude, but the guard accepts Bhelens suggestion and ambles off, hauling Leske out as he goes.

"Any ideas?" Bhelen asks as he looks at the man he downed and Rica straightens up again.

"Not a one." Rica says briskly before her eyes narrow. "Scrap that, I have got one. Everd."

Bhelen curses softly. The fuck did he nearly miss that. Of course Leske, presuming he is a colleague of Natia's, had been panicking if that's who Rica's sister is pretending to be - couldn't have the real Everd walk into the arena. He glances around, finding the correct name plate on a door and dragging him back to his room. Rica obligingly holds the door open and Bhelen dumps the unconscious, possibly and hopefully, Everd out of sight.

Bhelen sighs. "I'll happily help you kill your sister."

It startles a laugh out of Rica. "Can you imagine how much this would fuck up our plans if we hadn't come to watch todays Provings?"

Bhelen makes a noise of distaste. "I'd rather not."

The clank of armour straightens them both up as 'Everd' shuffles into 'his' changing room and ducks out of the helmet. "Leske, we need to…" She abruptly stops, eyes darting from him to Rica and back again. "Oh. Bugger!"

Rica raises one manicured eyebrow.

Natia ducks her head, sweat streaked hair clinging to her as she shuffles in place.

Rica's foot taps thrice.

Natia winces.

Bhelen watches the silent conversation with a mix of bemusement and a sort of hazy wish that he had such a good relationship with his brothers.

"You need to get out of that armour before anyone else comes looking to congratulate him." Bhelen says as he runs through potential scenarios in his mind. "We came in here because my poor noble hunters have never seen a Proving before and were in awe. Poor Everd fought so hard he passed out after just one drink."

Natia chuckles as she unbuckles straps, "poor noble hunter. Not seeing one of those around."

Rica looks towards the ceiling, as if she can find inspiration from the Stone and a sigh that speaks of long suffering escapes her. This must be how Vartag feels when Bhelen passes on new parts of his plans to be completed.

He stacks up Everds armour while Rica tightens straps on the scuffed leathers Natia pulls from a chest before offering them both an arm. Rica takes it without hesitation, lowering her eyes and curling into him. Natia huffs, grumbling several rather uncomplimentary things before accepting it.

"I'm really going for everything today aren't I?" she asks before the door is opened, "carta thug, celebrated Proving fighter, noble hunter… What's next?"

"How do you feel about taking Beraht's place?" Bhelen asks as casually as he can right before Rica opens the door.

The look of shock on Natia's face could be mistaken for awe and Rica trying to hide her laughter in his chest as shyness. Bhelen saunters through the Proving grounds. As usual nobody pays Natia or Rica the slightest bit of notice. Bhelen smiles. More fool them.


End file.
